Christmas Day
by CSIvHP11
Summary: When Christmas is bad, it is really bad. When Christmas is good, you forget that it was ever anything else.
1. 1899

**1899**

Helena closed her eyes. Her fingers curled around her pen tighter as she stopped writing. She took a deep breath before opening her eyes.

Her gaze quickly turned to the brown paper bag.

She closed her eyes again. She shifted her chair so the bag would no longer be in her line of sight.

She had bought it on a whim, had seen it by chance, and it was now mocking her.

She looked back at her work and read the last few lines before putting the pen down.

She was making no progress.

She stood, pushing the chair back, and picked up the bag. She slowly unfolded the top and pulled the ornament out.

The small tin horse had been sitting in a store window. One look at it and she had known that Christina would love it.

Would have loved it.

She ran her thumb over the details on the horses face, then stuffed it back into the bag. She opened a secret panel on the side of her desk, pulled out the papers and set the bag in their place.

The best gift she could get for her daughter was to find a way to save her.


	2. 1981

**1981**

His mom had spent the day trying to be happy, trying to make him and Jeannie happy.

Her eyes were too bright. Her smile was too wide. There were more presents under the tree than Pete had ever seen.

She was trying to make them happy.

It still didn't feel like Christmas.

Pete sighed and picked up the next comic from the pile Jeannie had given to him.

He was a few pages in when he heard it.

Crying.

A few moments later, the shower started, drowning out the crying.

Pete put the comic down and climbed out of his bed. He slowly opened his door, then tiptoed down the hall.

He slipped into Jeannie's room without knocking.

She was sitting on her bed, her diary in her lap. She looked up at him with an eyebrow raised.

_Mom's crying again, _he signed.

Her shoulder's fell slightly. She closed her diary, set it to the side, and gestured for him to join her.

He quickly crossed the room and curled up next to her.

"She misses him, and it's harder for her today," Jeannie softly told him, the words spoken in a way that told him she was focusing on her volume. "They met on Christmas, years ago."


	3. 1994

**1994**

"If you don't want it, I'll just take it back. It's not like that money can't be used for something else."

Myka did her best to not flinch at her father's tone. She had never said she didn't want it, she just hadn't shown the same enthusiasm for it as she had her other presents.

"No," she quietly said. "I want it."

"Good. Now go wash up, we have to leave for Aunt Cindy's soon."

She nodded and stood up. She ignored her mother's pitying look as she picked up the present. She ignored her father complaining as she walked out.

_She does this every fucking year, Jeannie. She needs to learn to be grateful._

She set the present on her dresser and stared at it.

It looked like her dad had gone to buy Tracy's gift – the Polly Pocket set she had been asking for since September – and had grabbed the next thing he saw for her.

An Easy-Bake Oven.

She could barely microwave leftovers without messing them up.

She ignored the way her throat closed up as she picked the box up again and put it in the closet with the other unopened gifts.

Her father wasn't going to notice if she never used it.

He never did.


	4. 1999

**1999**

Her forehead was cold where it was touching the window. The fog on the glass ebbed and flowed with her breaths.

"Claudia, you'll catch a chill."

Claudia moved her head enough to look at her foster mom, then moved back.

She didn't want to look at the family. They were all together. They were all alive.

A hand rested on her shoulder, something was put in her lap.

"It's for you."

She shrugged the hand off, then stood. She let the present fall to the ground. She stepped over it as she fled.

She couldn't stand it anymore. It was all just too happy.

Once in her room – the one they always gave to the foster, she was sure – she crawled under her covers and stared at the wall.

She didn't move when the door opened. She didn't move when the mom softly said her name. She didn't move when footsteps moved towards her, or when something was set on her desk.

She didn't move until the door closed again. Then, she rolled over enough to see the present on her desk before laying back down and ignoring the tears she couldn't stop.


	5. 2014

**2014**

Three days.

Apparently, whatever was protecting the town from artifacts did not also protect it from what the papers were calling the worst snow storm of the decade.

So, the power at the B&B had been out for three days.

Leena looked around the sitting room, where the team had gathered around the fireplace. The power was out, but she had never seen the living room so bright.

Everyone's aura absolutely shone.

Myka's and Helena's meshed as they huddled over the book Myka's dad had sent her.

Claudia's and Steve's seemed to ebb and flow with their game of Go Fish. Remnants of their colors clung to the window where pictures had been drawn in the frost.

Pete's was practically humming as he used the fire to read a stack of comics. Every so often, he would pick up a cookie and toss it at Myka.

She had begun to ignore him.

Artie had pulled an armchair into the heat and had proceeded to fall asleep in it. His aura was calm for once.

Leena smiled at the bright lights that filled her vision before walking into the room. She set a new tray of cookies on the floor, then sat next to Claudia and asked to be dealed in.


End file.
